Fuck it. He wasn't working anymore, and he

Fuck it. He wasn't working anymore, and he wasn't going to quit. "Bean stock?" Fuck bean stock. Starbucks sucks. The little white beeper went off, and he thought "No..."

His genius was too great for barista-ing. His vegetable-flavored mouthwash would be a hit - it was kid-safe because it was too gross to swallow. He slowly untied his apron, dropped

a few shrink wrapped pounds of wholebean Arabica into his knapsack and said "Peace ya'll, I'm out. When you see me on MTV Cribs, don't text, don't write, don't call." His mouthwash

bit, like the bit that goes in a horses mouth. He was saddled up and ready. There had to be an easier way to pay his college fees, he pondered. Suddenly Jenson dropped the trowel

onto his mechanics foot. The mechanic hit Jenson Button with a spanner and Jenson fell onto the track girl. It was like watching scenes from the three stooges rather than F1 racing

. Distracted by the pit crew antics, Mario braked too late running into Nikis gokart. There was a pile up on the Six Flags circuit. The Paparazzi caught Schumacher, Lauda, Andretti

At the Green Mill getting drunk, cancelling their rewards for winning the races. No drinking allowed, the carbon police reminded them. Their licenses were threatened with being

downgraded to "Designated Driver". The group gasped in horror, and swore to only get drunk responsibly. The carbon police, satisfied with their apology, drove off into the sunset.

"Well boys" the logician in the group exclaimed "with drinking now firmly in the realm of responsibility and the carbon police gone... let's light up"